Wyrm Lord (The Cloven Land Trilogy, Book 2)

1. Crowhaunted

Cait plummeted toward the spitting pit of lava. The heat from it was like a solid wall. She screamed as visions of burning alive consumed her. Nox had tricked them all. The portal was already sealed. They had the wrong cave. The whole thing with the undain and the chase was a mad joke to get her to throw herself into a pool of molten rock.

She only hoped, when she hit, it would be a quick end. No more than a few moments of agony.

Then she thumped into solid ground. Instead of raging heat, the air was cold on her cheekbones. She held Ran's hand in hers. His skin was rough. Her other hand was empty. What had happened? She'd tried to grab her mother for the leap through the portal, but they'd fallen before they were ready. Nox had fallen, too; she'd heard his cry as they fell. She replayed the moment in her mind but couldn't decide who had jumped or fallen first.

She opened her eyes. Wherever they were, it wasn't a lava pit in Iceland.

She, Ran and Nox lay on a plain of hummocky grass inside a circle of jagged standing stones that rose from the ground like pointed teeth. The portal from the other side. The circle sat in a wooded valley surrounded by the slopes of steep hills. Frost gilded the ground, Cait's breath billowing into the air as she exhaled. A thin, early morning light infused the scene, casting long shadows from the standing stones. Dewy cobwebs covered the tussocks of grass like frozen smoke in the sunlight. A ghostly mist drifted from the ground.

They were alone. Apart from the stone circle, the only sign of human activity was a stone archway in the distance. Whether it was the remains of a bridge that had once spanned the valley or something else entirely, she couldn't tell. It was clearly ruined now.

What happened? she said. And then, an even stupider question, Where are we?

Without replying, Ran released her hand and sprang to his feet. He spun around, assessing threats from any direction, then sprinted to one of the stones. Vaulting on top, he balanced there to get a better view of their surroundings.

Nox sat on the ground behind her, a broad grin on his face, like all his plans had worked perfectly. And, OK, he had escaped Genera for the moment. But given where they were it surely wasn't much of an improvement.

Well, he said, some of his old self-assurance returning. Here we are, Cait. You and me together in the mythical land of the undain.

She scrambled to her feet. That's not how it is, Nox. She thought about everything he'd done. The way he'd hunted them. The pleasure he'd taken in her distress at the refinery. Danny. Just leave me alone.

She strode toward Ran, feeling a little ridiculous. She wished the others were there. Not only Danny. Fer and Johnny, too. Her gran or her mother. Wishing for her own mother, how pathetic was that? But she felt suddenly so alone without them. Helpless.

Childish tears swelled within her. She couldn't do this. She couldn't do any of this. She wanted to go home, back to her old life.

Out of habit she pulled out her mobile, thinking she could speak to one of her friends, text them at least. Feel closer to them. But, of course, she couldn't. No signal in the other world. How could there be? She was such an idiot. The bookwyrm was there, installed as an app. Its icon was an illustrated dragon entwined about a gold and crimson letter D. But without an internet connection it would be of little use. Besides, the phone's battery was down to 10% with no way to recharge it. She switched it off.

Ran atop his stone peered into the east. Nox, now standing, brushed mud from his waterproofs, the swishing sound loud in the dawn calm. She didn't really know either of them. At least they knew what they were doing. Ran wasn't afraid of anyone, and Nox was smart, knew things about Angere, knew people here. What chance did she have? She was just a girl who'd worked a bit of witch-magic without really knowing what the hell she was doing.

Except, she wasn't alone, was she? There was the fourth companion. The one no one knew about. The ghost or echo of the dead witch-girl inside her. There was her hope, a thing she could cling to in this terrible place. A much-needed friend. Cait shut her eyes again and reached within herself, seeking the faint presence.

No reply came. Dread seeped through her. Maybe the possession magic, or whatever it was the girl had worked back in Manchester, didn't survive the leap between the worlds. Maybe Cait really was on her own.

She tried again, yearning for the girl's presence. That cool mountain pool. This time there was a stir, like brittle leaves drifting in a breeze. The girl was there. Distant, but definitely there. Relief flooded through Cait.

Can you hear me? she said.

The reply was faint when it came, like a winter wind shaped to form words. I can hear you. But everything feels so strange. Where are we?

We've left our world. We jumped through a gateway to Angere.

The land of the masters? The horrors? Say it's not true. Why would you do such a thing?

I'm sorry. We had no choice. It was the only way to defeat them.

It's no way. You will never defeat them. Not like this. They always win, always… She sounded fainter and fainter, as if fading there and then.

No! said Cait. Don't go. Don't give up. I need you. You're the only one here that can help me. Promise me you won't go.

There was a pause, a long moment that stretched. Then, finally, came the reply. I won't give up on you. For better or worse. But I won't be enough. We won't be enough to defeat them. You know that?

"Yes, replied Cait, speaking out loud. Yes, I know that."

Ran glanced at her with a puzzled look on his face then returned to scanning their surroundings. But the girl was right. They wouldn't be enough. They could only try. What else could they do?

We should get away from here, she called out to Nox and Ran. They'll find us easily.

No hurry, said Nox, grinning as if she was amusing. We're a long way from the White City. Hundreds of miles. They probably think we're still somewhere in our world. I kept the details of the Iceland portal very secret.

Anger swelled within her. Yeah. Or maybe you want to wait here so your undain friends can come pick us up.

Nox shook his head. You're not making sense. Why would I do that?

Because if you could get back in their good books you would. I bet you'd jump at the chance if they offered it.

Nox regarded her thoughtfully. You know what, Cait? Perhaps I would. But that's not going to happen. I've failed them and I've betrayed them. Trust me, Menhroth is not the forgiving type. He doesn't do grey areas. And ironic as it is, my only hope for revenge lies with a few witches and their ridiculous plan to get both halves of the book to Andar.

Cait met his gaze. Maybe Nox did want revenge on the undain. But it was just as likely he wanted revenge on her. His fall was her fault. He wasn't going to forget about that.

We have to head for the White City, she said. Find the other half of the Grimoire. And then somehow make it across the An.

It sounded ridiculous as she spelled it out. How was any of it going to be possible? She didn't mention the thing that was uppermost in her mind: Danny. Would the undain take him to Angere? If they did, she had to rescue him as well. Another impossible task. They'd been an item for, what, one day before he'd been captured by an army of undead freaks. It was typical of her luck.

We should work out where in Angere we are first, said Nox.

I thought you knew about the portal? said Cait. "I thought you were all, like, I make it my business to know what's going on."

I knew about the gateway in our world, not this side. We should assess the situation, gather facts before deciding what to do. It could be weeks before they think to look for us out here.

No, said Cait. We have to move. They could be here at any moment.

I don't think so. I told you, I'm very good at keeping secrets.

I'm sure you are. But I don't think Danny is.

Danny?

Danny. Didn't you notice he wasn't with us? They took him in Manchester. We tried to rescue him, but we couldn't. She stopped for a moment, fighting back tears. She had to get a grip on herself. "Don't you see? The undain have him and that means they'll soon know everything."

Nox looked startled. This was clearly news to him. He really was cut off from Genera and everything that had happened recently. That changes matters. We have to leave now.

Yeah. Like I said.

Ran jumped to the ground, landing beside Cait with cat-like grace. He said a single word in his language, nodding toward a clump of trees that crowned a nearby hill.

What did he say? asked Cait. She needed to learn some of Ran's language. She hated being dependent on Nox to translate for her. Problem was, she wasn't much good at languages. She'd barely scraped a D in French.

"He said crows."

Crows?

Crows, said Nox. Look.

Above the trees, a great flock of birds wheeled around in the dawn like a cloud of black smoke from some raging fire.

They're rooks, said Cait.

What?

Rooks, not crows. Crows are solitary birds. Her mother had explained it on one of their holidays. Strange the things that stuck in your mind. And why are we even talking about it? You think there's time to do some bird watching?

Rooks or crows, said Nox. What matters is they might be looking for us.

Cait turned back to the shifting cloud of black dots. One or two were peeling off from the flock, flying in different directions. Fanning out.

Which way is the An? asked Cait.

Nox studied the sky. We're west of the river, so we need to head toward the rising sun. Which takes us directly past the crows.

Rooks.

Whatever.

She longed to ask Ran what he thought they should do. His people were from here. Long ago, sure, but he might know something useful. She didn't know the words. And she didn't want to ask Nox to speak for her. She didn't trust Nox not to misrepresent her. In any case, she needed to seem like she knew what she was doing, even if she didn't have a clue.

The seeing stone. Maybe it would help. She had to do something.

Wait here, she instructed, trying to sound like she was used to giving people orders. It sounded ridiculous even to her. She marched out of the circle. Maybe they'd think she was working some terrible magic. Communing with the whatever-the-hell-it-was you communed with. When she was far enough away, making sure they couldn't see what she was doing, she squinted through her gran's glassy green stone at the rooks.

It was impossible to identify individual birds in the flock. They swooped and circled, and by the time she'd picked one out with her right eye, she'd lost it through the stone. She turned her attention to the lone birds. One flapped toward them, calling out with a grating caw. She eyed it through the stone. Its body glowed with a yellow light. It was natural; it was just a rook. It glided overhead, black plumage shining in the slanting rays of the sun, wings splayed wide into fingers. It didn't stop.

Another approached, this one much lower, flapping hard to stay in the air. It landed on one of the standing stones and regarded them with shiny eyes, head cocked as if trying to understand who or what they were. It, too, glowed with an inner light through the seeing-stone. She studied three other birds and each time it was the same.

Come on, she called to the others. They're birds. They can't harm us. We'll head into those woods. At least we won't be out in the open. Then we'll decide what to do.

She set off walking. Ran immediately caught up with her and raced on ahead.

Nox shouted to her. Are you sure? He sounded doubtful, like she couldn't possibly know what she was talking about. She ignored him. After a moment she heard him muttering to himself and setting off to follow them up the hillside.

The ground sloped more steeply as they ascended. They walked in shadows, the sun not yet high enough to illuminate this flank of the valley. Cait said nothing. She needed to try and think of a plan. She'd assumed her mother would know what to do when they got there, but now it was up to her. Which was ridiculous. She didn't have a clue where to start.

She tried again and again to see a way to defeat the undain, save the world. Save the worlds. But all she could think about was Danny. What was happening to him? What were they putting him through? He'd try and be brave. Crack stupid jokes instead of telling them what he knew. They'd get everything from him sooner or later.

Half-way up the slope, she stopped to catch her breath. A stitch already pulled at her side. That wasn't good. There were hundreds of miles to cover. Nox reached her and stopped. He was breathing hard as well, which made her feel a little better. Ran, of course, looked ready to race up the hill.

How do you know the birds aren't undain? Nox asked once he could talk.

Cait shrugged. I just do.

Some spell?

Maybe.

Well, be careful. If they can detect the use of magic you'll alert them to us.

I know what I'm doing.

I hope so, said Nox.

So did she. She changed the subject. So the sun rises in the same direction in this world?

Nox nodded. Angere is different from our world, but in some ways it's very similar.

So the seasons? Back home it's the end of the summer.

It's a month or so later here, but the worlds stay more or less in sync. That's why the portals work. So I was told.

She nodded as if that was what she'd suspected, and looked away, up to the trees. The rooks still thronged the branches. The leaves up there were definitely turning to yellows and reds. The grass beneath her feet was crisp with overnight frost. How long before the snow came? Time was short. She set off walking again.

She'd thought vaguely the frozen river would be a way to reach Andar. But, no. That was no good, was it? By then it would be too late. If they could walk across the ice so could the undain, and Andar would already be lost. Everything would be lost. Somehow, they had to find another way. And do so before winter struck.

She was still thinking these troubled thoughts when she came upon the dead rook. Or maybe it was a crow. She nearly trod on it. She stifled a shriek of horror. The ruined carcass lay on the ground beside a rock as if it had simply fallen off its perch. It was little more than fine white bones and sinews held together with tatters of flesh and feathers. Its head was just a skull. It moved and, for a moment, she thought it was alive, impossibly alive. But it was only flies, fat and purple, crawling through it. The bird was long-dead. Tiny white maggots wriggled and writhed through its eye-socket. The cloying smell of decay filled her nose.

She recalled a holiday, a day when she and her mother had come across a dead sheep in a field, little more than a bag of wool stretched over a gaping frame of bones, buzzing with fat flies. The sight of it had filled her with shivering horror. But her mother had pulled her away, held her close, told her it was OK. It couldn't harm her. That was how it went. Life and death. She wished her mother was there now to repeat her words. She glanced at Ran, watching her with his wary eyes. No comfort there. She sighed, stepped around the dead bird, and carried on up the slope, heading for the safety of the trees.

The ground rose more steeply the higher they climbed, and it took another twenty minutes to reach the tree line. Darkness lingered under the eaves of the great branches as if reluctant to yield to the daylight. The cacophony of the rooks' calls filled the air. Cait turned to look the way they'd come. The standing stones were unexpectedly distant, a perfect circle in the centre of the valley, like the pupil of an eye. Nox toiled up the hill toward her, his chest heaving. They were both going to have trouble crossing Angere, even without the undain pursuing them. Only Ran was unaffected by the effort of the climb. He stared into the trees in case some unseen danger lurked within.

A rook flapped awkwardly into the sky from down the slope. It was injured; it climbed as if one of its wings was damaged. She watched it, wondering how it had hurt itself. How they hadn't noticed it. It must have been feeding on some carrion. Then, for the briefest moment as it laboured and flapped, she saw daylight through its body. Alarm pounded within her. She thought of the dead bird on the ground, the maggots swarming in its broken skull. The eye-socket staring up at her.

Was it the same bird? The broken rook struggled into the sky, wings ragged. It shed feathers on each flap, as if it was only the memory of how to fly that kept it in the air. A rasping croak came from it. She thought it would fly east, toward the White City, but instead it jerked away from them, heading down the valley.

Nox arrived. What is it? What have you seen? He peered around in clear alarm.

Should she tell him? Maybe she'd imagined that glimpse of light through the rook's body. It had been such an insane few days. It's nothing. Just … thinking. I'm in another world. I mean, it's amazing isn't it?

Yeah, said Nox, pushing past her for the cover of the trees. Amazing.

When he'd gone she lifted the stone to her eye. But the bird was only a speck of black, too far away for her to tell if it was natural or not. It flew underneath the stone arch and disappeared from sight. She waited for it to emerge from the other side, hoping to discern some clue about what it was doing, where it was going. But there was no sign of it.

Frowning, she turned to follow Nox into the trees.

2. A Nation of Slaves

An hour later, they sat on the other side of the hilltop copse, eating the supplies they'd brought with them from Dublin: dry biscuits and some sickly, sugary cake that Cait could only nibble at. They sipped at water from plastic bottles. They didn't have enough of everything to get them very far; some time soon they'd need fresh supplies.

Loose boulders lay scattered around, half-buried in the ground, as if someone had attempted to erect a building long ago but it had fallen into ruin. They sat on them, each alone with their thoughts. The rooks racketed in the treetops, but their calls were less harsh. It sounded more like they were chortling with laughter. A wind had come up, gusting strongly enough to send the branches swaying and lashing. Autumn leaves – lime-green, blood-red, honey-gold – fell around them, gliding to the ground like dying butterflies.

Angere lay stretched out before them, flooded with white sunlight. Nox glugged back water and handed her the bottle. So, does Angere surprise you?

A little, Cait replied, not looking at him. In truth, it surprised her a lot. It wasn't what she'd expected at all. She'd imagined a scarred, ruined landscape: grim metal buildings, raging fires and the air heavy with smoke. But Angere was beautiful, there was no other word for it. It looked more like a vast garden than a wilderness. A carefully tended patchwork of lawns and avenues and meadows stretching in all directions. Even this late in the year, swathes of colourful flowers were everywhere. The air was thick with their heady scents.

Dotting the landscape were shining white houses: palaces with towers and domes and steeples. They looked like the stately homes her mother dragged her to on weekend trips to the country. But those had been old and crumbling, their oak-panelled corridors carpeted with fading rugs, their walls hung with the blackened portraits of stern former owners. These houses sparkled in the light of the sun, their white stones glowing.

Are you sure this isn't Andar? she said. Maybe we ended up on the other side of the An by mistake.